Page 24 of Christmas Treasures (Sugarville Grove #6)

MAX

T own square sparkled under a net of twinkle lights, the soft snow from earlier adding that much more magic to the scene. Like all of the tree lighting ceremonies though the years, it seemed as if every family in town was there, bundled in coats and hats.

As they made their way toward the crowd already gathering around the tree, Bianca skipped ahead in her little boots, her red hat slightly crooked, her mittened hands swinging at her sides.

Max kept one eye on her and one on Charlie, who walked beside him wrapped in a deep green wool coat, a soft ivory scarf looped around her neck.

She looked so pretty, it made his knees weaken every time he glanced at her.

“Is it like this every year?” Charlie asked. “It’s packed.”

“Yeah, Sugarville tends to show up for sugar and lights. My mom calls it our version of Times Square.”

Bianca raced back toward them. “Hot chocolate?” She pronounced the words carefully. They’d worked together that afternoon on English words of things she would see that night .

“Hot chocolate is a must,” Max said.

They made their way to the cider and cocoa stand, where Max bought them each a steaming cup and Bianca procured a gingerbread cookie shaped like a reindeer. The air was thick with the scent of hot dogs from a cart and kettle corn.

They found a spot near the giant spruce in the center of the square, still dark and towering, waiting for its moment.

“I heard they added two hundred new lights this year,” Max said. “Mayor Fontaine doesn’t want to be outdone by any other towns in Vermont.”

“Two hundred more?” Charlie asked. “I remember it being very well lit last year. I mean, when I saw it the next day, after the lighting.”

“There are never too many lights when it comes to Sugarville Grove.” He took her hand in his. “I’m glad you’re here with me.”

“I’m glad I came.”

Bianca stood in front of them, clutching her cocoa with both hands and craning her neck toward the tree.

Just as the choir started singing “Silent Night,” Lily, Jack, and Sophie appeared. Luke and Abby followed slightly behind, clearly discussing something important. He hoped everything was all right.

Lily shouted Bianca’s name, and the two girls hugged and then held hands as they listened to the singing.

Luke and Abby glanced down at his hand in Charlie’s at the same exact moment. Neither of them said anything, other than to greet them.

“Good to see you out here,” Luke said to Charlie.

“Thanks,” Charlie said. “It’s my first time.”

“So I’ve heard,” Luke said.

His brother had a big mouth. He didn’t have to call her out.

Abby smoothed it over, though, by saying it must be a really busy time of year at Sugarville Slice and wasn’t it great she could make it this year.

If Charlie was offended by either comment, it wasn’t obvious.

Mayor Fontaine, as cheerful as ever, wearing a matching green scarf with his wife, stepped forward, speaking into the microphone.

Before the lighting, as was tradition, he announced the recipient for the holiday volunteer award.

His brother had gotten it last year but this year it went to Mia, the chef who had moved to Sugarville Grove a few years back to open a restaurant in the mountains.

She’d organized the food drive that he and Charlie had participated in.

Although Max didn’t know her well, he’d been impressed by the small woman’s capacity to do big things by her sheer force of will.

“They’re about to start,” Sophie said, excitedly.

“Ten…nine…”

Max looked down at Bianca. She was bouncing on her toes, whispering the numbers under her breath. They’d worked on those earlier too.

“Eight…seven…six…five…four…three, two, one!”

The lights exploded to life. The crowd gasped. Children cheered. The choir began to sing “O Christmas Tree.”

Charlie turned to look at him, eyes wide. “That was really cool.”

He didn’t think. He just leaned in and kissed her. Soft. Sure. Familiar and new all at once. And she kissed him back.

When they pulled apart, they were both smiling.

Bianca, apparently, had been watching them and now clapped her hands. “Kisses.” They had not worked on that word, but apparently she knew it already.

Charlie laughed, her cheeks coloring in the glow of the tree. “Her English is improving by leaps and bounds.”

Max laughed, then noticed his brother and Abby were staring at them, a mixture of surprise and hurt in their eyes. This is what happened when one Hayes didn’t tell any of the other Hayeses about his love life.

Max raised an eyebrow, nodding toward his brother. Which meant, “I’ll tell you all about it later.”

Luke nodded back, in the language of brothers.

The next morning, he couldn’t stop smiling as he moved around the kitchen.

His fingers tapped a happy rhythm against the countertop while he watched pancake batter bubble and transform on the hot skillet, the sweet scent blending with the salty crackle of bacon that popped and sizzled.

Every sensation felt heightened after last night.

The memory of Charlie’s lips against his still tingled on his skin, making his chest expand with something that felt dangerously like love.

He was certain Charlie was ready to embrace Christmas.

She seemed ready to let the holiday light pierce whatever darkness had kept her from celebrating all these years.

It was time for her to have a tree. And he and Bianca would be the ones to bring it to her.

Outside, a gentle snow had fallen overnight, transforming their little corner of the world.

Delicate crystals caught the morning light.

The world looked clean, fresh, reborn. As sunlight streamed through the kitchen window, he pitched the idea to Bianca.

Her dark eyes sparkled, a smile spreading across her face as she nodded enthusiastically, maple syrup glistening on her bottom lip.

At the tree farm that afternoon, Bianca moved with purpose, her small body darting between the trees until she stopped abruptly, clasping her hands together. “Yes, this.” She pressed a mittened hand to the branch as if she greeted an old friend .

He had no doubt this would mean something to Charlie, especially because Bianca had picked it just for her.

A half hour later, they carried the tree to the porch together. Max’s stomach fluttered with nervous anticipation. For just a split second, he worried it was a mistake. But no. She was ready. She wanted to be ready, because it would make Bianca happy.

Charlie opened the door after a moment, warmth and the scent of something baking wafting out from behind her. Her sweater sleeves were pushed up revealing her slender forearms, tendrils of hair escaping the clip that held it back.

“Hey.” Her eyes widened slightly at the sight of the tree. “What is this?”

“Merry almost Christmas,” Max said, the words coming out husky and tender. “Bianca chose it just for you.”

She stepped out onto the porch, staring at the tree as if it were an unwelcome guest. “No.”

Max blinked, the smile frozen on his face. “No?”

Her voice was firmer this time, edged with something that might have been panic. “You can’t just—bring a tree to my house.” Each word seemed to cost her, her knuckles whitening as she gripped the doorframe.

Bianca looked up at her, confusion clouding her expression, her small shoulders drawing inward against a chill that had nothing to do with the snow. “But it’s for you. It’s Christmas. The tree knew it was for you.” She spoke in Italian, her voice small now, uncertain.

“I didn’t ask for this.” Charlie’s eyes locked on Max, pupils dilated. “I told you. I don’t do this. I can’t. Take it away.” She stopped short, as if swallowing the rest of the sentence, her throat working visibly.

“It’s just a tree.” Max spoke softly, his voice gentle as if talking to a spooked animal.

“No, it’s not.” Charlie’s words snapped like an icicle falling from an eave. “It is you forcing me to do something I don’t want to do. And I can’t have that.”

Max felt the warmth drain from his body, leaving him hollow. The cold seemed to penetrate deeper now, settling into his bones. “Charlie?—”

“Take it away. Please.” Her voice cracked on the last word.

Bianca let go of his coat, her fingers uncurling slowly as if releasing something precious. She stepped back toward the steps of the porch, eyes like saucers, reflecting the hurt and confusion Max felt radiating through his own chest.

“Please,” Charlie said, her voice breaking now, a tremor in her lower lip that she bit down on hard. “Leave. Now.”

Max stood there, snow melting on his shoulders and dampening his collar, the tree between them like some quiet line that couldn’t be crossed. The scent of pine suddenly seemed cloying, accusatory.

After a moment, he nodded, the motion stiff, mechanical.

He picked up the tree, sap sticking to his gloves. “You got it.”

Charlie stepped back inside and slammed the door on them, the sound reverberating in his chest like a physical pain.

Max didn’t speak as he loaded the tree back into the truck bed. Each breath of winter air burned his lungs.

Bianca stood on the snow-dusted driveway, her mittened hands tucked under her arms, her face unreadable in that way kids get when they don’t understand something but know it matters too much to ask about. A single tear trembled on her lashes.

He secured the twine with fingers that felt numb, brushing snow off the branches without looking at her. When he turned, she was already climbing into the back seat, the door closing with a click.

She didn’t ask where they were going .

He didn’t tell her.

They just sat there for a moment, the heater warming the car, their breath fogging the windows, cocooning them in a cloud of disappointment and hurt.

He glanced back at Charlie’s house. The curtains were drawn now, no sign of movement behind the glass. He started the engine, its rumble filling the silence, shifted into gear, and pulled away, leaving behind a trail of green needles on white snow. Evidence she would see in the morning.